Coffee by Meshael Al Blehed

I will write my way home tonight; I will write my way to you. Love, you may ask: But where do you find me?

I find you in music. Every sweet song, and every strum of the guitar that comes through my headphones brings you out.

I find you in literature. In every word and every poem. Be it the classics or some amateur trying their hands at eloquence, their words resonate within me to conjure up your image in every curve and arc of the letters.

I find you in metaphors and similes.

I find you in ink and pen, always leaving your mark on whatever surface you come across.

I find you in wonder and fascination.

I find you in the constant hum of electricity and all the assurance it brings.

I find you in every longing look and second glance.

I find you in the hesitations and afterthoughts that plague my mind.

I find you in the youthfully driven rash decisions everyone tells you that you’ll end up regretting but you never do.

I find you in the bleak hope that rain and gray skies bring.

I find you in the instance where you wish time would go slower.

I find you in the sea that stands between you and me.

I find you in the daybreak harboring the promise of a new day and beckoning with enough hope to get me to wake up each time.

I find you in the stars when I’m in the countryside, clear and bright hanging like proverbial diamonds, each flicker sending me to a state of awe.

I find you in the rivers that run through those stars, surrounding the ones around you to make them shine.

I find you in my eyes when they close because I cannot let you go.

I find you in my heart. I find you there growing and extending your reach into a second set of veins that run through my body, all the more to make my blood rush faster at the thought of you.

I find you in myself. I find you in every room and landscape in my head. I find you in my earliest memories, silently observing. I find you in my daydreams of the future, actively participating.